


Trusty and True

by Decennial



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Jack, Dean Hates Witches, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Team Free Will 2.0
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-13 15:52:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15368022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decennial/pseuds/Decennial
Summary: Sam, Cas, and Jack wish that Dean would stop getting himself into these situations. Dean just wishes that breathing was a little easier right now, but at least he can always count on his family to help him out.





	1. Breathe In

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Hello! This is my first multi chaptered fic for Supernatural. In my mind this is set just before the finale of season 13 assuming that they had time to go on multiple hunts before everything went sideways. I hope that you will enjoy!  
> I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

A twig snapped under Sam’s boot as he trudged through the dense foliage of the woods at dusk. The sounds of other twigs and brush crunching behind him signaled that his family followed closely as they made their way towards, in Sam's opinion, a bad situation. Although, Sam thought to himself, they were technically on their way to fix said bad situation, but he knew from experience that it was destined to get worse before it got better. His musings continued as he realized, looking at the sinking sun, that there was no way they were going to make it back to civilization before dark; hell, they hadn’t even reached their destination yet. He took a glance around at the gangly, reaching pines that towered over the shadowed brush and silently scolded himself for yet another night that was to be spent where what bumped in the night liked to play, but their current task couldn't wait until tomorrow.

“Cas, how close are we?” Sam asked with a backwards glance to the angel behind him.

“According to the tracking spell I placed on the witch, her lair should be approximately one mile in this direction.” He replied, looking down at his map. When Castiel had learned of what had happened he had wasted no time searching for and finding the ingredients he would need to find their quarry. Like Sam, he too knew that time was not a luxury they could afford right now.

From the back of the group Dean could be heard quietly chuckling to himself, “he called it a lair” he said.

Sam could then hear Jack laugh quietly as well, imitating and looking up to Dean as per usual. Sam smiled a little to himself before calling back to them, “this isn’t a joke you two! Dude, I’m totally blaming you for this nature hike.”

“Come on man, seriously? I can’t just expect every woman who’s into me to be an evil psycho she-witch” Dean countered, arms outstretched.

“Did you not find it suspicious that she was so interested in your lifestyle, and what you do for a living?” Cas interjected without looking up from the map.

“Everyone is interested in what I do for a living... of course I'm usually a doctor, fighter pilot, or secret agent.”

Jack cocked his head to the side a little as he looked at Dean and stoically asked, “and when she forcibly pinned you to the bar and took some of your hair while laughing maniacally and promising revenge for her dead sister?”

Dean scratched the back of his head in memory and looked sheepishly to the side “well that was obviously a give away.”

Sam sighed as he brushed past a low hanging tree branch “and now, here we are tracking down some hopped up witch that is doing who knows what with your beautiful locks.”

“Not as beautiful as yours Sammy, don’t worry.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and without looking back he muttered, “jerk.”

A frown formed on Sam's face when the expected response didn’t immediately fly at him from the back of the group. Everything seemingly began to move in slow motion, and Sam felt his heart leap into his throat as he turned to see his older brother fall hard to his knees. Dean had a painful expression on his face, his mouth agape as he desperately gasped for breath that would not come. His calloused fingers dug at his chest as if his lungs merely needed more room to function, but still they did not respond. There was no way it was going to go down like this, Dean thought, not when they were so close, not with everything they had been through. All Dean needed was for his lungs to get with the program and work for hell's sake! But still he could not draw any air.

Cas was the first to reach his fallen brother, and made quick work of sliding him off his knees and into a seated position, stilling his hands with his own by grabbing Dean's wrists at the same time. Cas captured the attention of the panicked green eyes with his own blue ones, silently reassuring and commanding him to calm himself lest he make things worse, and Dean relaxed a fraction in response. Cas, like the others, knew that the witch had finally used the hair she had stolen from Dean to enact the curse that had stolen his breath, but the problem was what they were going to do about it.

Sam reached Dean a second after Cas, dirt and leaves scattering as he slid to his knees beside his brother, the word no repeatedly tumbling out of him as he placed a hand on the downed hunter's quaking shoulder; hoping the contact could physically keep him from death. He immediately began racking his brain for any kind of information that might spare his brother from the agonizing feeling of slowly suffocating. For the curse to break, they needed to reach the witch, but there was no way that Dean would last that long without oxygen. He refused to allow himself to panic, however, knowing that all hope would be lost if any of them lost their heads. So instead he did what he did best, and thought. 

Jack remained frozen to the side while Dean continued to twitch with barely withheld panic, and Sam and Cas frantically tried to think of something they could do. Though Jack's instinct was to be by Dean's side like the other two, he feared he would only be a hinderance. He did not know enough about witches and curses to be of any help to his family and found himself clenching his fists in frustration at his own inability. He often hated having this power that everyone seemed to want, but little to no knowledge on how to harness it to be useful. Jack's eyes widened as he processed that thought, and an idea formed in his mind.

Without wasting a moment to second-guess himself, Jack burst into motion and kneeled by Dean's side, pushing Sam up to his brother's head as he took his place. Jack took a deep breath and placed his hands over one another on Dean's chest, pressing down as he did so, and concentrated harder than he ever had before. Sam saw the telltale flash of golden-orange in the nephilim's eyes before quickly turning his attention back to Dean, a giddy sound of joyous relief escaping from him when he realized what Jack had done.

Dean was suddenly breathing. The breaths were shallow, weak, and raspy at best but he was finally getting precious air. The older hunter closed his eyes and relished the feeling of the oxygen trickling into his lungs, nodding once when he felt Sam squeeze his shoulder. Cas turned to Jack, the question of how clearly written on his face but unable to form the words. Jack didn’t take his eyes from Dean but felt Cas' expression and answered, “I’m forcing his lungs to move. I thought it would be the easiest way to get him air, but the spell is fighting me. It's so strong I feel like I'm trying to pull a car through quicksand. I don't think I'm going to be able to get him a full breath.”

Sam grabbed Jack's shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze “this is amazing Jack! You've managed to do more than we could have hoped! You bought us the time we need.

Keep it up for as long as you can, and Cas and I will find the witch and end this.”

Cas let out a breath that he did not know he had been holding and released Dean's wrists, standing to walk around to his young ward after he did so. He placed a light hand on top of Jack's head to convey his pride before determinedly picking up his map to determine the fastest way to reach their target. This was a hard earned opportunity that neither he nor Sam would let go to waste. 

Before standing to follow the angel, Sam turned his attention to the raspy Dean, who opened his eyes when he felt his brother taking his head between his palms to say, “Dean, you’re going to have to relax and stay calm until we can kill this witch. You’re breathing, but only barely and the more worked up you are the more oxygen you will waste. Got me?”

Without waiting for a response, Sam turned to leave when he felt a weak hand grab at him “Sammy” was the whispered plea he heard from his brother in between the wheezing gasps of air.

The younger Winchester tried for a reassuring smile, though he was fairly sure that he failed miserably, and quietly scolded, “see, what did I just tell you about wasting oxygen....

I’m going to be fine Dean.”

And as he turned to leave once more he whispered to himself, “and so are you.”

With Jack still devoting his entire attention to Dean, Cas and Sam shared a look of pure fury for the person who had caused their brother this pain. The silent promise for retribution hung between them before they took off full sprint between the thick pines. As they left half of their family behind, the final rays of the sun finally sank behind the horizon, and the night descended upon them.


	2. Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Cas rush to take out the witch that has cursed Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Thank you to everyone who read chapter 1! This chapter features Sam and Cas as they take on the witch that has cursed Dean. There is a brief mention of a character with suicidal thoughts so please don't read if you feel that will make you uncomfortable. Otherwise I hope you enjoy!

Sam and Cas slowed their pace as an old cottage came into view in a small clearing ahead of them. The half moon gave just enough light to illuminate the small dwelling, which looked to be barely standing. The wood walls had darkened with age and were split in many places to accommodate clinging vines as they ascended towards the roof where ancient moss had made its home. From the outside it appeared to be very small, two rooms at most, but there was some imposing force that seeped from it that made it feel much grander and foreboding.

Both the angel and hunter knew that time wasn’t on their side, but they also conceded that it wouldn’t do Dean any good if they rushed in and got themselves killed. Using the treeline for cover, they quickly circled the house once to gather any extra piece of information that they could to help form a plan. They discovered that the cabin had two doors, a front and back, and that it was impossible to tell if anyone was inside due to the fact that there was only one blacked out window. Sam caught Castiel's attention and motioned with both his hands in a swift manner suggesting that they split up and enter through different doors. Sam reasoned that doing so might give them the upper hand over whatever awaited them inside. Cas gave a subtle nod and the two split in different directions, Sam towards the front of the house and Cas towards the back.

The hunter watched the angel move out of sight, and then slowly began creeping towards the darkened front doorway. He was entirely surprised that the few stairs to the front porch held his weight as it looked like a stray feather would be enough to collapse them, but the wood held firm as he reached the door. The handle turned smoothly, for who would feel the need for locks in the middle of the woods, and he slowly pushed inward with his gun held at the ready to fire at whatever moved inside. The door gave an ominous creak as it opened, drawing a wince from Sam, but his footfalls still remained quiet as he took his first steps into the house.

Sam found himself in a small hallway lined with old indiscernible photos, various cracked vases, and a carpet runner that was so worn he thought he could see the floorboards underneath it. From what Sam could see at the entryway, the hallway ran through the middle of the cabin, two rooms jutting from either side, and ended in what appeared to be a kitchen; if the narrowed view of pots and pans and hanging herbs was anything to go by. After a few more steps inward, he noticed the faint glow of candlelight coming from one of the two rooms. Pressing himself to the wall, Sam reached the doorway and paused, slightly raising his gun, in order to listen for any sign that the witch was inside.

Winchester luck, however, gave him his answer when he heard a faint laugh from within and a thin voice that spoke, “Sam Winchester, how kind of you to visit. Tell me, how is your dear brother?”

Sam could feel his teeth grind together as he stepped into the room with his gun aimed and ready, a look of lethal resolve on his face. As he started the squeeze the trigger the witch spoke again “do you really think killing me will save him?”

The question was enough to give Sam pause and he took the moment to study his target, his finger still only a hair's breadth away from firing. The witch didn’t look old physically, perhaps middle aged, but everything about her screamed that she had been around for an age at least. She had a sort of tired look about her that Sam was beginning to associate with creatures that had lived long enough to grow bored of this life. Her waist-long auburn hair was accented with a streak of silver and her round face, though free of wrinkles, contained three beauty marks in a line from temple to jaw. She was seated in a high backed chair by a small table that held a lone candle, and her flowing red gown pooled on the floor at her feet.

Sam quickly realized that she was exuding a confidence that he would not kill her, or that he would come to regret it if he did. Crap, that meant that she was either the best bluffer he had ever met, or that killing her really wouldn't help his brother. Enraged at his conclusion, he took a step toward her with the gun still raised imposingly “tell me how to save him!” He demanded.

“What purpose would that serve? I wish for him to die and I wish for you to live with the fact that you could do nothing to save him. Just as I have lived after you two killed my sister ten years ago.” The witch's sickly sweet voice raised goose bumps on Sam's arm and had the hair on the back of his neck standing in high alert.

She suddenly smiled coldly and rose to her feet in an eerily fluid motion and began to circle to the other side of the room. After a she had moved a couple of steps Sam growled, gun still trained at her head, “Stop. I said Stop!”

They had almost completely switched positions, the witch circling her prey, when she flicked her fingers towards Sam and he became frozen where he stood. The tendons on his neck stood out like cords as he desperately strained to move, but he remained where he was. The witch lazily swayed toward the hunter, traced a long nail down his chest, eliciting the feeling of nails on a chalkboard, and cooed “now sweet Sammy, do you realize how futile it is?”

As the witch reached up to caress Sam's face, a look of pure shock came upon her features and she fell forward to reveal a pissed off Castiel, a bloody knife in his hand and his eyes shining the brightest of blue. The witch gasped in pain as she sank to the floor by Sam's feet, who found himself thankfully back in control of his body, and Cas went down on one knee with her, his hand pressed against the stab wound in her side. “An angel?” she whispered, eyes wide and disbelieving.

Sam moved around to stand at the ready behind Cas, in case he needed any backup, as the angel spoke to the witch with a wrathful energy, “I am sure one as ancient as you has already realized what is transpiring, but I will spell it out for you none-the-less.

I have stabbed you with a knife drenched in the witch-killing substance that Sam and Dean have carefully perfected; in short, you are already dead. The only reason you are still breathing is that I am healing you at the same time the poison is eating away your life, barely keeping you in the land of the living. I can imagine this must be extremely excruciating, but you can end this very easily. Tell us how to save him.”

Cas let the poison slip a little and the witch responded with a piercing scream, blood bubbling into her mouth as her body seized in pain. Somehow managing the pain, the witch slammed her fist against the floor in frustration and glared at the two boys “How dare you?! I am an ancient and powerful being and yet you think to torture me? I will-”

Her promise cut off in yet another painful shriek as Castiel once again let the poison claim more of her life. As she lay on the floor panting, once again attempting to regain control, the fallen angel thought on the notion of torture.

It was not a concept that was new to him, but perhaps the circumstances in which he now used the skill were dissimilar to his previous employment of it. Ever since he had befriended the Winchesters he had discovered many different sides of himself that he had never been allowed since his creation. When he had tortured for Heaven it had always been on orders, and he had never dared question the reasoning behind said orders. Sam and Dean had taught him the meaning of free will and being able to make his own choices, thereby creating his own life. He did not have a history of making solely good choices in his new life, but they were still his to make. The darker sides of him were just as important as the light, and he would lay it all on the table if it meant saving one of the people that helped him realize that.

The witch pulled Cas out of his musings when she gave a wet chuckle from her place on the floor “I am very accustomed to pain, angel. I will die here, but I will still get my revenge in the end. And then I will be able to face my sister in the afterlife. My Liliana.”

The name was spoken so quietly that Sam almost didn't hear it, but there was some familiarity there that sounded alarm bells in his head. The wheel in Sam's mind began to spin as he started sifting through memories to discover why that meant something to him. Sam thought back to ten years ago, when the witch had said that they had killed her sister, and searched for the story that would match the name.

Cas let the poison slip further again and the witch writhed on the floor in agony, but still laughed at her victory. Sam continued to stare at her in concentration when his memory finally clicked into place and his eyes widened in horrifying realization. He kneeled down on the ground and asked venomously, “Liliana Addington?”

When the name left his mouth a eerie silence fell over the room, and the sudden tension became a living thing between them. Cas could not believe how still the Witch had become despite the unbearable pain she must be feeling, and was even more shocked when she spoke dangerously, “So you remember murdering my sister in cold blood? You would dare speak her name?” she spat blood onto the floor as she shook in pain and anger.

Castiel tilted his head in confusion and watched Sam as his enraged features turned absolutely cold and murderous as he stared down the woman on the floor. After a few more beats of silence Sam spoke, “I don't know what you think happened, but I can tell you what actually took place ten years ago with your sister.”

Sam stood and turned his back to Cas and the witch for a moment, running a hand through his hair and then down his face as he prepared to tell the story. He gave a private look to Cas to convey his remorse, and then turned to the witch purposefully.

“Liliana approached my brother and I at a bar in some Texas small-town, and wasted no time telling us that she was a witch and that she knew we were hunters. I think she was expecting us to jump up guns blazing right there, but my brother and I don't really see things as black and white as we used to. Just because a person is something else, or something more, it does not make them inherently evil.

I mean, hell, we've met plenty of good witches over the years, so we just asked her what she wanted. She looked a little confused as to why we would ask so simply, but told us none-the-less that she wanted us to kill her. Something about living forever, being tired of this life, wanting peace... I don't know I kind of lost track after she just came out and asked us to murder her.

Of course, we refused immediately. Dean and I have had a rough go of things over the years, but stone cold killers we are not. We were both so disgusted that she thought she could just use us that way that we both got up, paid for our unfinished beers and went to leave.

Liliana followed us all the way into the parking lot, begging and sobbing and screaming, and normal people were starting to wonder what the fuss was all about. Dean finally had enough and told her to grow up and stop throwing a temper tantrum, and that's when she snapped. For the first time since she had approached us, she looked as old as she had claimed to be and ten times more powerful. That was when she did one of the most suicidal things I can think of, and took me from right in front of Dean to god knows where.

I only remember bits and pieces of what happened after I was grabbed, but I figure it didn't take Dean too long to find where we were; especially since she wanted him to. I'll never forget the look on my brother's face as he broke through the door and took in my battered form against the wall. When he saw Liliana approaching me from the other side, murder written clearly on her face, Dean did what had been programmed into him as long as he can remember; Shoot first, ask questions later... and most importantly, always look out for Sammy.

That is how Liliana came to be dead. She spun her own fate and dragged my brother and I along for the ride. Dean took her death hard because he knew that he had played into her hands, that she had manipulated his morals, and it has been one of many dark smudges on his conscience ever since. So if you are telling me that my brother is currently slowly suffocating to death because some pity party witch basically forced him to kill her ten years ago, then I am going to be very. Pissed. Off.”

When Sam finished, silence once again blanketed the room as the two listeners processed what they had heard. Cas gave his brother a sympathetic, understanding smile before focusing back on the witch, who appeared to be frozen in shock.

The woman violently broke out of her stillness and lunged at Sam with her long fingernails like daggers looking to tear him apart. Cas quickly grabbed her and pinned her back to the floor, almost losing his hold on the poison in the process, but the witch continued to thrash and reach for Sam “You lie!” she screamed,

“My Liliana would never do such a thing. How dare you soil her name? How dare you seek to deceive me?”

Sam calmly crouched down to look her in the eye “I take it you've been alive for a very long time? I bet you can tell when someone is lying without blinking an eyelash so tell me, am I lying?”

The witch's face twitched and morphed into a horrid combination of rage and despair as she looked at Sam's stoic face and realized that he told the truth. She sagged into the floor, the fight gone out of her, her eyes seemingly looking at nothing as she began to ramble to herself, “Liliana I... you never said... how could... you asked me to remove the spell that prevented us from harming ourselves. Were you trying to tell me then? I think I had realized, but I didn't want to... Such children we are for ones so old.”

Blood started dripping from the witch's nose as she looked up at Castiel with tears running down her cheeks “Will you let me die now angel?” she asked.

Cas clenched his jaw in anger at the thought that Dean's life was in peril based on a revenge scheme that had dissolved into nothing after so few words “You will first instruct us on how to lift the spell from Dean!” He yelled.

Whether the witch was fading or considering her resolve, she took a moment before pulling a small black pouch out from her belt and handing it to Cas with trembling hands “Take this to your brother and blow the dust into his face; it will end the spell as you wish,” She explained, “I suppose you think me a fool to have rushed into my revenge so quickly only to have it snuffed out. When you have lived as long as I, with only one other person by your side, rationality does not play a significant role when that constant is gone. I should have seen the signs long ago, that she was pulling away from me, but I had grown overconfident in my belief that I was all she needed in this world. I only hope she will be able to forgive me in the next.”

Castiel took the pouch, and felt a great pressure lift from him as he released his powers and let the poison take the witch. With her dying breath they heard her whisper “you had best hurry to your brother though... when I felt the spell had not claimed his life, I sent my pet to finish the job.”

Sam grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and yelled, “What pet?!” but she was already gone.

Sam and Cas shared a brief terrified expression before they both took off through the house and back into the woods where their two loved ones waited like sitting ducks.


	3. Breathe Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the final chapter, Jack tries desperately to keep Dean alive while he waits for Sam and Cas to return with a solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the final chapter to my little story! I'm not sure I'm 100% happy with how it turned out, but thus is my nature. Thank you so much to everyone who has read so far, and I hope that you all enjoy how it ends.

Dean tried to relax after Sam and Cas left, but the anxiety of seeing your little brother and best friend race off into danger, combined with the feeling of breathing through a cocktail straw made relaxing a difficult thing to say the least. His go-to method for calming himself, humming his favorite rock song, was out of the question so Dean closed his eyes and started reciting Led Zepplin in his head instead. As the song went on his fingers began tapping out the rhythm against the ground, and he actually did feel himself relax a fraction. He nearly jumped out of his skin, however, when Jack spoke from his side “that’s really methodical. I think it’s actually helping me concentrate better.”

After a moment of confusion, Dean realized that Jack was referring to the tapping that he had been doing and smiled a little bit. Apparently the repeated motion was doing more than helping Dean calm himself a little, and now that he thought about it, Dean actually did feel like he could breathe a fraction easier. Well, if the kid wanted rhythm then he would be happy to provide, and he moved his hand to tap out the beat against Jack’s leg instead of in the dirt.

Jack closed his eyes and allowed the rhythmic motion to ease his panic and help increase his concentration on the task at hand. Since he had started to question his place in this world, he always wished that he had a better grasp on his power so that he could do more to help and be the good person his family believed him to be. However, in his short time with the Winchesters, he has learned that there is no such thing as only good or only bad, but Jack did his best every day to make sure that his good outweighed any bad he might cause. He only wished that he could do more for Dean now, after all the hunter has done to help him.

Almost as if Dean had been reading his thoughts, he felt a gentle hand squeeze his leg and Jack wondered, as he often did, about the power Dean had to reassure and support when his family needed it most. Even while he was fighting for his life, Dean still provided a pillar of support for the young nephilim to lean on when he doubted himself. Jack let the warm touch sweep his negative thoughts away and committed himself to his task as the rhythmic tapping started back up again. He didn’t know how long he could keep Dean's lungs moving, but he would drain all of his power before he would allow himself to give up.

Time passed in silence and, despite trying to stay positive, Jack began to feel frustration building in the back of his mind as he realized that things were going from bad to worse. Dean was still tapping comfort against his leg, but the beat was slipping every so often and there was less force behind the contact. Jack understood that, though Dean was breathing, he was still not getting enough oxygen and it was starting to show. He desperately tried pushing harder against the spell, but he was feeling drained from the power he had already spent and the curse didn't budge another inch.

Jack was pulled from his internal struggle when he noticed how eerily silent the surrounding woods had become. He slowly opened his eyes and scanned the area around them for whatever looming threat was suddenly nagging his senses. He thought he saw a shadow blur between two trees, and whipped his head around when he heard a rustling behind him, but there was nothing there. A guttural growling echoed from everywhere at once, and even the leaves of the trees seemed to shiver their anticipation and fear in response. Dean heard it too and stopped his tapping, electing instead to grab hold of Jack's thigh, as the boy crouched more protectively over his fallen brother.

A stray cloud dimmed the light of the moon just as a shadowy figure emerged from the trees and slowly slinked in a circle around the two downed hunters. Its shining silver eyes were all that Jack and Dean could make out from the dark, and from that alone they could tell that this was no normal animal. It let loose another bone rattling growl, and halted its stalking when the light from the moon reemerged from behind the cloud. Jack realized that it had purposefully stopped in the shade of a tall pine to give itself more cover in the moonlight, but Jack's superior eyesight could now discern its form.

At first glance, Jack would say that it looked like a oversized mountain lion, but further scrutiny showed it to be so much more. The silver eyes that were still trained on them screamed heightened intelligence, and its form almost seemed to ebb and flow abstractly even though it wasn't moving a muscle. Jack could tell that, having sized up its prey, it would not be long before the beast would attack so he quickly leaned down to Dean and said, “I'm going to have to let go to deal with this. On the count of three try to take as deep of a breath as you can and hold it, and I'll be back. I promise.” Without giving Dean any time to try to resist, Jack quickly continued, “Ready? One, two, three!”

The young nephilim concentrated as much power as he absolutely could to fight the spell, and watched as Dean's lungs expanded to about half capacity. Dean gave Jack's thigh another squeeze, but Jack refused to meet his eyes as he did the hardest thing ever and let go of his brother. Resolved to end this as fast as possible to get back to Dean, Jack quickly faced the beast and let all the frustration and anger out in two yelled words, “Come on!”

Jack's words filled Dean's ears from where he lay still, but he tried to focus on the breath he was holding as opposed to the danger his family member was in. He trusted Jack absolutely, and convinced himself that the kid would be ok despite his deepest urge to protect, protect, protect. He forced himself to relax instead, and thought back to the training his father had put him through as a child. He was out of practice, but there was once a time when he could hold his breath for three minutes. He wasn't sure he would last that long right now, what with his body already being a little oxygen starved and that he hadn't been able to get a full breath before Jack let go, but he could hold on though; for his family he would hold on.

The beast did not seem to think that its prey was going to be much of a fight, and crouched back while pinning its ears at the sight of Jack squaring up to it. When Jack took a step forward it yowled and sprung at the nephilim with lightning speed, its claws stretched and ready for the kill.

Jack used the cat's own momentum and threw it off of him into a nearby tree, and hoped with all of his might that it just stayed down. Of course, it got back up as if nothing had happened, but Jack realized something as it prepared to attack a second time. Though it was facing Jack, the beast had its silver eyes trained completely on Dean. It began to pace as if it had realized that Jack was to be more trouble than it had expected, and it simply needed to find a way to get through Jack to the body on the ground behind him. The big cat's ear twitched a few times in consideration before it simply stopped pacing and sat back on its haunches with its tail flicking back a forth excitedly.

Horrified, Jack recognized that the creature had figured out that Dean was without oxygen and all it would have to do it wait for its prey to die. He ran forward angrily to attack but the cat deftly dodged backward, its form flowing effortlessly, and emitted a harsh noise that was almost like mocking laughter. With a growl of his own, Jack moved to attack again but stopped himself as he suddenly understood just how bad his predicament really was. If he went after the creature to attack, it would just lure him further and further away from Dean to make it easier to get around Jack and make the kill. However, if he stayed by Dean in defense then the hunter would suffocate to death before too long, and the beast will still have accomplished its task.

Jack's mind raced as he tried to think of some way, any way, to get out of this and save his brother, but he seemed to be stuck. Just as he began to think there was no hope, that he was a failure, he paused and took a calming breath and focused. He pictured Sam as he had once told him, “There's no sense in panic.”

An idea formed, and the nephilim quickly turned his back to the beast, crouched, and placed his hands on Dean's chest, power at the ready. The mountain lion let out a blood curdling cry of frustration, as if it knew that Jack was going to keep its quarry from death, and bounded forward with its gaping maw positioned perfectly to tear at the exposed throat of the one thing keeping it from doing its master's bidding. When Jack sensed the cat wouldn't be able to change its course, he spun and grabbed the throat and chest of the predator, halting it in mid-air, just before its attacked could be completed. With a hoarse yell Jack sent as much power as he could through his hands, and felt blood splatter across his front as death swiftly took the beast. He spent a moment staring at the felled monster, panting from the effort of what he had done, before quickly turning back to Dean.

Jack wasn't sure how long he had been dealing with the threat, but it had been longer than he had hoped it would be. He placed his hands on Dean's chest, but he felt his heart stop when no power came at his call. His brother also didn't respond to being touched, no reassuring squeeze or musical tapping came from the too still form. A painful noise came from the back of Jack's throat, and he removed his shaking hands at a complete loss for what to do. A tear escaped from the corner of his eye as he slammed his hands back down on Dean's chest, willing every last ounce of power he had to make his lungs move! He was sure he felt bone give way, but set that aside for later as he finally felt Dean's lungs shift. Precious air filtered slowly once more into the prone hunter's body and Dean's heartbeat sounded reassuringly through Jack's connection, though he remained unconscious.

When Sam and Cas sprinted into the small clearing they only paused for half a second to take in the scene before approaching their family. Cas glanced at the dead creature and put a grateful hand on Jack's shoulder, who was concentrating so hard that he had not heard their approach and jumped at the contact. Sam wasted no time and blew the dust from the pouch onto Dean as he had been instructed and then turned to Jack “I'm sorry it took us so long kiddo. It looks like you did a great job watching out for him though.” Sam paused and forced Jack to meet his eye before saying, “seriously, thank you.”

Jack gave Sam and Cas a weak smile and slowly removed his hands, which he found were still shaking, then sat back heavily when he felt Dean's lungs take in their own oxygen for the first time in what seemed like forever. “I couldn't keep his lungs working the whole time.” He stated shakily, “I had to let go... and now, now I don't know how long he's been unconscious. What good is my power if I couldn't save him? He could never wake up!”

Cas kneeled down next to his ward and grasped his shoulders “Listen to me Jack, you did more than any of us could have ever done. Even if I was still a full powered angel I would not have been able to hold off a witch's curse as you have done. Doing so is fighting against the nature of the world itself. And you have not only done that but also defeated what looks to be a mighty foe.” He pulled Jack into a hug and finished, “You must not bear so much responsibility on your own.”

Sam smiled widely at the two and took his turn hugging the boy after Cas had moved aside. “What he said,” he whispered to Jack, “We wouldn't have stood a chance without you.”

Sam gave Jack a firm pat on the back as he pulled out of the hug and stood to move to the other side of Dean. “Now let's see what we can do about waking this pain in the ass up.” He said, trying to hide his concern, as he crouched by his brother's head, “Come on dude. Up and at 'em.”

A few gentle slaps to Dean's face and he began to stir, much to the delight of his family. It started with a subtle twitch of his fingers and a slight wrinkle in his forehead, but quickly turned into a violent gulp of air which erupted into uncontrollable coughing. Sam supported his brother and helped him into a more comfortable position as the coughing continued, and Dean moved his arm to support his midsection. When the coughing subsided Dean fell against his brother and moaned, “Definitely some broken ribs there.”

Jack winced and murmured an apology but was immediately stopped by a hand waving in front of him and Dean rasping, “Nope. No apologizing allowed. You literally saved my bacon, and if broken ribs are the price I have to pay then... hell yeah.

I mean, we break our ribs like once a week, don't we Sammy?”

Sam scoffed “Maybe you do, but some of us actually have self preservation instincts. Speaking of which, please stop talking and focus on breathing before you pass out on us again.”

Dean frowned in defiance, but did notice that the world was sort of spinning around him so he closed his eyes, followed his brother's orders, and tried to breathe as deep as possible through the pain of his ribs.

Cas looked at Dean in sympathy and spoke up, “I, how do you put it... may have bit off more than I could chew earlier, but I believe I have enough power in me to heal the ribs if you will allow it.”

Dean could not stop the burst of laughter that escaped him after Cas' statement but quickly regretted it as he flew into another coughing fit, his ribs screaming in protest. Sam frowned down at his older sibling “If you think you can Cas, I think we should before he punctures something and manages to get himself killed that way.”

Their angel wasted no time and laid his palm on Dean's chest, a warm familiar light emanating from him as the bones knit back together. When it was done Dean took a couple of full breaths, and closed his eyes “Thanks buddy” he said.

The Winchester family sat in the quiet moonlit woods for a few moments, silently reassuring one another that they were all alive and together. Jack was the first one to speak up after everyone's adrenaline had worn off “Can we go home now?” he asked tiredly.

Dean smiled, his eyes still closed “Sure thing kid.”

Despite assuring everyone that he was not dizzy or light headed due to oxygen deprivation, Dean had an arm hooked over Sam's shoulders and leaned heavily on his brother as they walked. Cas had demanded that he carry Jack on his back, “piggyback” as Dean had informed them, due to the amount of power that he had expended, and the nephilim had promptly fallen asleep after a few steps. As they all shuffled towards where the Impala waited to carry them home, Dean thought on his family. He had a gift for getting into sticky situations but those closest to him never hesitated to jump into the fray to drag his sorry self out again. He looked up at Sam while he thought this, a loopy grin on his face, and Sam felt the corner of his mouth turn up a little in response “Love you too big brother.”

 

END


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